


He Would Know

by agentsimmons



Category: The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1996)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, Hero Complex, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Not Canon Compliant, Out of Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-18
Updated: 2014-09-18
Packaged: 2018-02-17 15:44:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2314853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentsimmons/pseuds/agentsimmons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He always seemed to see right through her and that was a chance she couldn't afford to take.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Would Know

She was an illusionist by nature. Being a performer was her trade. A flick of the wrist, an up turned smile and Esmeralda could keep the truth neatly tucked away up her sleeve. Quasimodo sometimes suspected something was wrong and worried for her. But he was still too naive and goodhearted to put two and two together. Which was probably for the best, she reasoned, since Quasi would break Phoebus in two and she didn't want that on either of their consciences. 

Then there were her other friends and acquaintances. They had eyes and ears and enough cynicism to wonder at how often Phoebus visited the taverns. They would hear the gossip of how the Captain was seen stumbling out of this Inn or that and they would shake their heads and pity Esmeralda. "It's a wonder if she ever has a sober husband these days," they'd say, but if there was any suspicion of his drunkenness leading to anything else, it wasn't on account of Esmeralda. She was willing to admit to them that it got frustrating how much he took to the drink, but it was part of her rouse. Admitting to a half truth was the easiest way to convince them that it didn't go further than that. She was known to be liberal-minded and she used it to her advantage to dispel any rumors that his inebriated tendencies were leading to an overly unhappy marriage.

It was an ongoing charade that she felt largely in control of. Nobody would ever figure out the truth if she didn't want them to, she determined. That is, nobody except him. He would know. If she was good at illusions, then he was the master. He'd taught her much of what she knew and would see through her smoke and mirrors without so much as a single blink. And it certainly didn't help that he knew her far better than any of those she regularly fooled. Oh yes, she was sure he would know.

So she did her best to break her ties from Clopin. She no longer visited the Court of Miracles. She avoided the places she knew he frequented. She no longer participated in the feasts or festivals of her people unless she absolutely had to. She didn't invite him to dinner anymore and largely ignored his invitations as well. Eventually he got the message that she wanted distance and the invitations stopped coming. She hoped he would think it was something more personal and not simply her pride, even if it hurt her to think maybe she was hurting him with her coolness. He'd always been there for her after all and she must seem pretty ungrateful now.

But she did have her pride just the same. Clopin had warned her and she'd ignored him. " _You'll regret it if you accept, Esme_ ," he had told her in the privacy of his tent the night she had told him of Phoebus' proposal.

" _Why? Because he's not like us? Because his skin is different? His upbringing?_ "

" _Because he's a hero,"_ his voice had been sharp with impatience. _"_ _He is not a hero like you or like Quasimodo. He is a military hero in a white man's army. You will lose him before the end. Either he will return to the battlefield in desperation of feeling useful again or he will waste away here in bored isolation and will resent you for his choice._ "

" _You don't know that for sure. He's different, remember? Hasn't he proven that yet?_ "

" _He's proven that his heart is good when he listens to it, yes. I won't deny that. But it was still the hero's choice and hero's sacrifice he was making. His kind will always be in love with heroic deeds and battle more than they can ever be with a woman._ "

She hadn't listened. She couldn't believe Clopin's blanket assumptions could be true for every soldier, least of all Phoebus. Until it happened.

Phoebus _had_ gotten bored eventually and with no call to arms to turn to, he'd begun to drown his feelings of uselessness in alcohol. The resentment came later. Even when the idle drinking began, she still didn't think he could ever take out his anger on her, but the first time he pushed her to the floor and never bothered to apologize once he was sober again, she knew in her heart it was just the beginning. Somewhere along the way, for reasons she couldn't understand, he had come to blame her at least partially for the state he was in. Maybe he blamed her for why he had bothered staying in Paris to begin with. Maybe he felt he had wasted good, youthful years he could have spent still in service elsewhere. Whatever the reason, once he had let himself hurt her once, the easier it became to raise his hand to her again...and again.

But nobody would ever know, she remained firm. Not Quasimodo, not her friends, not even the deacons of the church lest the eyes of Notre Dame somehow betrayed her secret to them. And most importantly, Clopin would never know if she could help it. If she could just keep her distance...

There was a loud knock on the door, startling Esmeralda from her thoughts and sending her scrambling to hide the evidence of the newest bruises she had been in the middle of tending. "Just a moment!" She quickly finished with the task and took a deep breath to compose herself before opening the door. However, any composure she'd managed came crashing down with one look at the slightly older gypsy man before her. "Clopin?" His name came from her lips in a startled breath.

"I'm sorry, Esmeralda," he started as she cautiously allowed him entrance and shut the door. "I know I shouldn't have come uninvited, but I could no longer take not knowing. After all, our friendship -" he turned to look at her with a more serious face than many had the honor of ever seeing, however stopped mid-sentence. "What has he done to you?" he asked immediately, although she had seen his eyes pierce through her masquerade before he even spoke.

Clopin moved toward her without hesitation and placed his hand on her forearm in a friendly gesture, but it gave her away. Feeling how she flinched and hearing the sharp intake of breath, he had his answer. Clopin gently pulled down the sleeve of one of her arms just enough to see the discolored skin hiding there. She cringed, but didn't protest. He then looked her over more closely and noticed all of the little things that he could guess were attempts to hide her bruises. The long sleeves she had never been one to wear, the extended length of her dress, the powder on her skin, the scarf about her neck, his eyes undressed her in ways and for reasons they had never done before.

His eyes rested on the scarf the longest and as if in answer she carefully undid it. Her eyes closed in shame as his widened at the sight of raw skin and fresh bruises, the very marks she'd been tending to before he interrupted. She waited for him to respond, but he could only stare at her neck blankly. At last he seemed to find her eyes again, but his continued silence cut through her until she couldn't take it anymore. "You were right," her voice cracked in defeat and she hung her head.

"Esme," his voice was filled with compassion and to her surprise he carefully wrapped her in his arms and stroked her hair as gently as if she were a child again. Esmeralda couldn't fight the tears that flooded her eyes over so small and comforting a gesture and she wrapped her own arms tightly around him, burying her head into his shoulder. "We'll fix this," his voice was steady and reassuring. 

Suddenly, she wasn't sure why she had kept the truth from him. She wasn't sure how she could have given up his friendship for the sake of her pride. She should have known all along that he would know the answer. "Thank you, Clopin," she whispered. It was hardly enough to make up for how she had pushed him away, but for the moment it was all she could manage as she clung to him. "Thank you."

**Author's Note:**

> Poor Disney!Phoebus. He's genuinely a good guy in the film, but as a kid I never liked him so now that I'm older I have this bad habit of twisting him into a bad and/or broken guy instead of accepting the whole happy ever after routine. And it doesn't help that Esmeralda/Clopin is my preferred pairing (not that I'm even sure why). 
> 
> Speaking of, even though I ship it, in this fic I did intend that, while there are hints at the depth of their relationship, everything Clopin does is out of friendship and sincere love and not to manipulate her in her vulnerability. It's not meant to be a strings attached, savior type deal where she hooks up with him because of his rescuing her so to speak. That's why it ends where it does and why there's an emphasis on friendship. 
> 
> Of course they're OOC. It probably would have taken a miracle for me to have written them in character lol. I'm just not good at keep these characters IC in canon or out.


End file.
